Blades On And Off The Ice
by Llowyn Maelai
Summary: This is a place to collect all of my one or two-shots in the Yuri on ICE universe; short interactions friendly and fluffy. I'll rate it T for now, in case of future chapters. ("Inside the Sochi Banquet" is also included here, but I like it as a stand-alone too, so I'm leaving it as also an outside piece.)
1. Inside the Sochi Banquet

_**A/N: ** I wrote this whole 'fic while completely blitzed. It's just fluff and randomness with no real purpose. Take it with a grain of salt._

* * *

The Sochi banquet was well underway, and the participants were in full swing of the festivities. Lurking on the outskirts of the party, remorseful that he had to be there in the first place, Yuuri grumbled inwardly, angry and embarrassed at his failure.

People were dancing and having fun, and he was fucking miserable.

_Forget it, I'll just have a drink and people watch._

One flute of champagne turned to two, and that turned to four. Somewhere after the seventh he finally lost count, and felt the disgust in himself fade to the back of his mind like static from an old TV disconnected from the cable box.

And out came Drunk Yuuri, stretching his body like a lazy dragon awakening from it's nap.

Yuuri shrugged languidly out of his blazer and dropped it somewhere on the floor. He tugged at the too tight tie and loosened it several inches, sauntering over towards Chris with a smirk.

The Swiss skater arched a brow when he noticed the Japanese man coming towards him, grinning widely. _Oh dear, he's completely gone. This should be interesting…_

"Heyyyy, Kuriiiisu~," came his light sing-song voice, and Chris laughed a little, intrigued. In that moment, the older skater knew he'd have to keep an eye on his younger friend, lest he do something stupid. "Hey, Yuuri-cchi," he offered a fun suffix to his friend's name, amusement clear in his laughing eyes.

The dark haired young man latched onto his blonde friend with a sloppy hug, partly to keep himself on his feet. Glasses had been tucked into his back pocket, and those sienna eyes - usually filled with second-guessing and trepidation - burned with a light Chris had never thought was possible to see in his eyes: sensuality.

The Swissman shuddered positively.

_If I wasn't already spoken for… _

That 'come hither' stare was turned back towards Russia's Ice Prince, and Chris smirked. "You've got it bad, Yuuri-cchi."

"I'll make him pay for being so damn good all the time," he smirked darkly, and Chris blinked several times, both at the tone and the positively carnal stare in his friend's eyes.

_Yep, this is gonna be fun. _"Whatever you've got planned for him, I'm in. I don't care what it is."

Yuuri smiled drunkenly up at his taller friend. "Looks like that Silver burned as much as I thought."

Chris 'hmm'ed, nodding, a slight edge to his vision taking root in his eyes. "Give me five minutes and a few more shots, and I'm good."

Yuuri patted his friend's cheek a few times and detached himself from the blonde, following after him to have one more shot. Go big or go home, after all.

True to his word, the silver medalist practically spun around gaily to his raven-haired friend, a determined and sultry grin on his face, rubbing his hands eagerly. "What's the plan?"

"Dance battle, I think. Getting naked, pole dance, more drinking, the whole bit," stated Yuuri, grinning. "Just need a few fun songs to give to the DJ, and we're set," he nodded, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his dress shirt.

"Sounds good. I have a few ideas."

"You never disappoint, Chris."

The two of them tripped their way over to the DJ and dropped a handful of songs on him. When the DJ motioned to them that the first one was about to start, Yuuri unbuttoned the rest of his shirt & let it flap around him untucked.

At the first beat of Usher's 'Can't Stop Won't Stop' cane on, Yuuri and Chris both started to dance, getting everyone else's attention, including the gold medalist.

Viktor stared questioning at the two dancing, eyebrows raising more as a few others joined in like a flash mob. He half-noticed when Otabek quietly traded places with the DJ, improving the track with some custom spinning.

Yuuri nodded his head over his shoulder to the slightly younger man, favoring him with a grin, to which Otabek nodded and gave a thumbs up - 'Leave this to me.'

When the first song bled away, the second kicked up - Single Ladies. The gold and silver ladies medalists jumped in behind Yuuri, and the three of them started to replay the MV for the song.

Chris was clapping as hard as everyone else, back-stepping until he was side by side with a clapping Viktor.

"You know him pretty well," came the Russian's amused voice.

"We're good friends, yeah. Met him back in Juniors," Chris nodded, pausing to wolf whistle at the low dip leg work Yuuri was doing. "It's rare when I find myself wishing for a moment that I was single."

"Oh?" Viktor turned his eyes towards his friend.

"For you, of course, though I know there's nothing there," Chris mentioned breezily. "And then there's Yuuri…"

Viktor stopped watching the blonde and turned to focus on the now dress-shirtless younger man, whose tie was slowly becoming undone by this point.

"When he's not so caught up in his own mind and he's loosened up, that man drops panties and could make any heterosexual male gay for him. No joke," he smirked, turning to watch Viktor, who was clearly entranced with the dancer, then looked back at his friend as the next song picked up - 'Confident' by Demi Lovato.

"That's my cue~!"

Viktor watched his friend practically skip away to join the dark haired skater, molding themselves together. Something twinged inside his gut at that, and he wasn't sure why.

"I wonder why he fell apart in the Long Program," he heard someone from the background ask, and he was curious to know why. This man clearly knew what he was doing and how to move. He was strong and lithe, and had rhythm. _I wonder what it would have been like earlier if he hadn't self-destructed… Probably amazing…_

The pressure of a competition was no joke, and Viktor wasn't one to downplay it, even as good as he was. But it made him a little sad to see someone completely buckle from the pressure.

When 'Bang Bang' came on, he even saw his own rink-mate and current Junior Grand Prix gold medalist join in the fray, even despite the disgust on his face. Viktor itched to join the dance-off. Chris couldn't be the only one allowed to invade Japan's airspace, after all.

So he did.

The rest of the evening was spent in a dance battle of sorts and everyone was having a blast. The music was loud and the beats were jumping. Clothes for some of the competitors were bleeding away, most notably Chris and Yuuri. Although it was common for the Swiss skater to be semi naked, it was the first time the Japanese national was so under-dressed. Celestino said nothing, just happy that his skater was having fun, minding his own business.

A few more swigs of the massive Brut bottle that Yuuri was carrying around and the pole was found. Chris was already stripped down to this tiny briefs, having a blast, dancing on the pole. When Yuri joined him for a spectacle, tons of ladies were making cat calls at them, which only served to egg the men on. There would be a lot of fantasies going around in dreams in the wee hours of the morning.

Viktor was transfixed as much as they were.

Who was this young skater, and how did he have such a crazy store of charisma? He had almost every pair of eyes in their generation, as well as some of the next generation, glued to his sillouette, just like Viktor's own skating had them spellbound when he set blades to ice.

Later in the evening, he found those eyes staring blearily up at him. Those arms around him caused something to squeeze in his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. Something deep within the recesses of his soul locked into place.

"Viktorrrrr," the younger man slurred, his eyes sparkling up at him behind the apparent haze of alcohol, and through the navy blue frames. An unnamed emotion swirled about in those sienna eyes that the gold medalist couldn't name, his brain so murky from the depths they were falling into those eyes.

"Heyyyy, if I win… this dance battle… Come to Hasetsu, Viktor. Be my coach, okay?" The man's arms squeezed tighter around the taller man, and he felt his heart spasm.

Viktor Nikiforov, god of the ice and world champion, actually blushed, speechless. Chris snapped a photo during a moment of clarity from his own haze, smirking.

_And that was the moment Viktor Nikiforov fell in love for the first time._


	2. Slave to The Rhythm

**A/N:** _Takes place about a year or so before the beginning of the series. Also, I apparently like writing Drunk Yuuri™ - the only planning done was a couple of blended drinks and a quick review of my playlists on Spotify. _

* * *

In the middle of the night, Phichit was awakened by the clinking of glass on tile and a faint sound of giggling.

He exited his room in grogginess, hoping to the gods that it wasn't someone trying to burglar their apartment. Instead, it seemed, to his grand amusement, that the poor broken-hearted body of his best friend and rinkmate was dancing around in his boy shorts and a barely-buttoned white dress shirt, with a pair of white crew socks on his feet and the usual blue wireless headphones set in the midst of messy jet black locks. His glasses were nowhere to be found.

Phichit watched from the doorframe of his bedroom, one ankle crossed over the other, shoulder and arm resting against it, a wide smile on his face. This is what he loved to see - Yuuri, in his element. Unchained by the pressures of rules and competition and prying eyes of the audience.

He desperately wished that this Yuuri could present at Four Continents and to the rest of the world. If he had been on ice and not dancing in their living room like no one was watching, he was sure that he would win a place on the podium on the word stage. If only there had been a way to perform his routines without the constant worry of being judged… without the fear of disappointing the fans.

The younger skaters eyes widened ever-so-slightly as Yuuri's feet left the ground, clearing the back of the couch with ease and spinning in the process. It took everything in him not to start cat calling and clapping at the clean one-footed landing on the ball of his foot, spinning twice in place like it was no big thing; the back of couch was two and a half feet tall.

Somehow he knew that, the moment this obviously buzzed Yuuri knew he had an audience, even if it was his best friend, that all of his grace and style would fly away from him and he would sober up immediately. That would be a decided travesty, so Phichit mimicked a statue.

_Keep going._

Phichit was a huge fan of Yuuri, even before he'd arrived in Detroit to train with Celestino. His dirty little secret that he never once told a soul was that it had been Yuuri's step sequences and the frighteningly high level of artistry of the older man's spins that had drawn him away from Bangkok in the first place. He was a huge fan of Viktor too, of course; who wasn't? But Yuuri really was something special when it came to artistic talent.

Hero worship was a bitch.

While the Japanese skater was distracted with music and making another drink, the teenager snuck over to the stereo to peek at the song list the phone was playing while it was jacked into, and he found it actually quite surprising.

Smashmouth? Brian Setzer? Sublime? The whole playlist screamed an eighties kid in the prime of high school, a whole decade too early for the asian. Phichit's eyes sparkled with mischief.

While the blender was whirling to make another mixed something-or-other, he flicked up a few times on the screen, and his eyes turned to comedic stars, a pair of pointy animal ears figuratively perking up on his head, his lips looking mostly like a feline. He tapped to change the song just as the last five seconds of the other song faded. Then he scurried away from the scene to hide in the shadows just inside his bedroom, phone in hand and recording. _Nyahahah…~_

When the song came on, Yuuri's back straightened up and his chocolate brown eyes seemed to shine with golden and burgundy flecks. His body moved in time with the fast pace, disturbingly able not to slosh his blended whiskey sour over the rim of the heavy highball glass.

[_Maniac_ \- Michael Sembello]

The twenty-one year old was dressed as _Risky Business_, but danced like _Flashdance_. The song was eerily fitting, being in Detroit. He threw back half his glass in a single gulp, ignoring the ten seconds of brain freeze, and all but slammed the glass on the bar. Then he surrendered to the music like it was the last thing he would ever do.

And Phichit captured all of it on video.

He would make sure to insist on Yuuri using this as a Free Skate; no one, including himself, would stand a chance against this piece. As he kept watching his friend dance, he was already preparing arguments in favor of it, and counter-arguments for the eventual denials that no, this was not appropriate and no, he wouldn't do it. He would make for damn sure that this be used in his theme for next year.

But what to pair it with for the Short Program… While he was considering this, another song started up that Phichit couldn't identify at first. His friend had the playlist on random and he had no idea what else was playing._ Ahh, why are you wearing noise-cancelling headphones?!_

He found moments later that he needn't have tried to guess what music was playing; Yuuri's body had a knack for conveying music just from his movements. It was decidedly not an eighties song, but something much more recent, and really wasn't the type of song one would dance to, but Phichit could feel the emotion from the slow ballet movements. He could practically hear the piano keys tickled at first, and then felt his soul clench with the perceived sounds of heavy guitar and drums, when Yuuri collapsed to his knees, back arched, hand raised to the ceiling with drink in hand.

[_Bring Me to Life _\- Evanescence]

He hadn't even realized he'd still been recording and thanked every deity above that he had been. The movements were powerful, and dragged out feelings of both remorse as well as desire from within. Phichit knew that if this had been on the ice, not even Viktor would be able to blink while watching. And that was a solid enough argument to make to his friend in favor of using it.

* * *

When the song finished and he snapped out of his trance, he stopped the almost eight-minute recording, already trying to come up with a Theme that would work for both songs.

Want? Not strong enough a term.

Rebirth? Too abstract.

Desire? It fit both songs' lyrics really well.

That was when he noticed a pair of socked feet not twenty inches away from his knees on the floor. Phichit twitched, sweatdropped and looked up slowly to smile sheepishly at his friend, slyly hiding his iPhone from view behind his back, placing a hand behind his head and laughing nervously. "H..Hi!"

"What're ya doin … on th' floor eh?" came a slurred and amused tenor from a slightly swaying body, barely gripping the now empty glass that had been filled with almost ten ounces of mixed drink, using the wall to prop himself up, panting slightly from his dance session.

"Ahh, you know… lookin' for dust bunnies!" came the lame reply.

His friend was too drunk to refute it and plopped down on his knees, face mere inches from the carpet. "Bunnies! I luff bunnies! Where dey at?!"

_Oh, honey… you're so gone…_ Phichit almost burst out laughing, clapping his friend on the shoulder and standing up, covertly tucking the phone into the pocket of his sleep pants, offering his roommate a hand to help him stand up. Yuuri was still trying to look around for 'bunnies' in the carpet though. He knelt down and dragged his friend to his feet, making sure to catch him as he lurched so he wouldn't slam into the doorframe, his arm draped around the slim waist of his roommate.

"Done dancing?" he quipped, leading his friend back into the living room.

"Ohhh, did'ja see it?" Yuri blushed prettily, laughing in spite of his amusement, struggling to pull the headphones from his head to rest around his neck.

"Yep, it was great!" Phichit gushed honestly, depositing the raven-haired man onto the couch and gingerly pried the empty glass from his fingertips.

"Ohhh , noooo!" Yuuri buried his face in his hands, whining to himself. The blush on his face was obviously shining on the shell of his ears.

"Dude, it was _so hot_, I had to fan myself. I got like five different ideas from it!" Phichit gushed, mixing another drink for his friend. He might not be able to drink yet legally in the States, but he was quickly becoming a great bartender for being only eighteen.

The drink was deposited onto the coffee table before his friend, who wasted a mere three seconds to pick it up and slam it back, depositing the empty glass with a flourish. After the initial burn dissipated, Yuuri stared sidelong at Phichit with a grimace. "You videoed it, didn' ya?"

"Of course I did," Phichit admitted seriously.

Yuuri groaned forlornly.

"Seriously though, Yuuri. It was siiiiick," he grinned. "I wanna see those moves on the ice. You'd drop panties with those moves and leave everyone in the dust. No joke!"

"Nooooo wayyyyyy" he slurred, slightly swaying side to side as the new round took hold, inebriating him.

"Yessss wayyyy!" Phichit wandered over to the stereo and unpaired Yuuri's iPhone from it, then dragged his own from his pocket to skim through his own impressive collection of playlists. "You're not tired yet, right?"

"Nah, I'm good, s'up?"

"I wanna run a couple songs by you and I want you to let me record them for Instagram!"

"Sure why not," came the immediate sloppy reply.

_Sober Yuuri would never agree to something like this,_ he smirked, eyes shining.

But first, they'd need to put Yuuri in something more attractive.

* * *

Ten minutes, some furniture moving and a costume change later, and Phichit was setting up a tripod with his iPhone paired to the stereo. "You sure you're okay with me posting this online?" he said, after starting the recording, covering his own ass.

"S'fine," Yuuri waved him off, grinning. "Leggo!"

Phichit grinned broadly, and started the music up. And Yuuri melted into it.

[_Bounce_ \- Timbaland feat. Missy Elliot]

To Phichit's credit, he had never seen Yuuri dance to this kind of music before, so it was no wonder that his nose was bleeding not thirty seconds into the song with the hip thrusts and crunking happening. _Jesus, if I wasn't gay already, I would be after this. _

The 'costume' wasn't anything more than a studded leather bracelet on his right wrist, black short-sleeved dress shirt left unbuttoned with a dark blue athletic fit ribbed tank top, a pair of ripped relaxed-fit Levi's that cuffed over the top of white high tops with black soles. Whenever Yuuri spun around, a flash of a silver wallet chain peeked out from under his shirt on his right hip.

Yuuri had the grace of the great dancers and entertainers of their times, stopping on the tippy toes of his sneakers, his legs bent just-so, snapping his shirt back behind him that reminded Phichit of the King of Pop. Some distant subconscious part of him felt a needle stab of jealousy at the fluid movements, but that was quelled just as quickly as it ha been felt.

There were few people on this planet got to have a private show of one of their idols dancing.

As the second song came on, Yuuri's movements warped from hip hop to a cross between ballet and pop, and looked a lot more like it would be perfect on bladed boots.

[_Till The World Ends_ \- Britney Spears]

Yuuri didn't even pause, and began to move in sensual but wholly complex ways, adding in pirouettes and grande jetes with his arms overhead, along with dips and thrusts and leaps with one leg outstretched while the other was bent at an angle.

Phichit couldn't take it any longer and joined his friend from behind the camera. The two of them danced hard and beautiful, bleeding into the next song. Sometimes they came together like a couple, sometimes they danced side by side. But there were always smiles and joy in their movement, both giving into the music and reckless abandon.

* * *

**phichit-chu **01:17am

978 likes

y-katsuki and I having some late night fun between comps! [yuuri_vs_ 4]

#yurionhardwood #tinydancer #nightisyoung #whiskeysours #slavetothemusic

_View all 201 comments_

** hamSTAR**: omg so hot! #nosebleed  
**christophe-gc**: _sacré bleu_… why am I not there! #notfair #moreyuriplz #gimmie !


	3. Encounter

**A/N: ** _Another take on the Sochi Banquet, this time from Viktor's perspective in First-Person POV._

* * *

In the midst of a conversation with my junior rinkmate, I felt the presence of a stare to my right.

I was used to the feeling of being stared at; had been for over a decade. Looks that emanated lust, desire, want, as well as ones that were of wrath and hatred mixed with grudging respect, or any mix of the aforementioned. But this stare, in all of my years of receiving them, was a combination that I couldn't recall ever feeling. Desire as well as respect, but there was some other kind of feeling in there I was at a loss to pinpoint. It was a wondrous surprise, so I chanced a side glance, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.

A lot of people were staring, but I zeroed in on a pair of almond-shaped, burgundy-tinged chocolate eyes, failingly hidden behind blue frames below a shock of ravenwing strands. It was enough to make me pause in mid-stride and turn then. The person's own stride paused, surprise flashing at the forefront of that gaze. I held his gaze and he held mine unflinchingly.

"How about a commemorative photo?" I smiled with my lips as well as my eyes.

The stare widened at my offer before narrowing a moment later, tinged with pain. And then the younger man in teal spun gracefully on his heel and strode away from me with purpose, black backpack swaying slightly, wheeling a suitcase behind him.

Instantly, my smile fell off of my lips and my heart clenched at the rejection. _Ouch._

I had no idea why I was hurt. I shouldn't be. Sure, I was vain and arrogant to a degree; I wouldn't refute that. But I wasn't so arrogant that I wholly believed fans had no choice but to feel anything but adoration amidst any sort of disappointment. I wasn't JJ, after all.

I heard the rapid conversation from a familiar newscaster in Japanese, though I only recognized my own name when it was spoken. The tone in Mooroka's words were surprise and gave me the feeling that he was somehow shocked beyond belief at 'Katsuki-kun' walking away from me. I couldn't hear the man's response over the din of background noise, which now included Yuri harping on me about something I wasn't paying attention to, still staring in their direction as his silhouette vanished into the crowd.

_Wait… Katsuki…?_ The name raised a flag in the back of my mind and I sifted through some random snippets of recollection from the competition that I had actually retained. I turned then and resumed my walking, responding noncommittally to Yakov and Yuri's chatter towards me, but not really paying any attention to it. And then it clicked.

He was the last place skater that had completely self-destructed.

Once in the car to head back to our hotel in order to rest and prepare for the banquet, I paired my earbuds to my phone and hunkered down in my seat, digging through videos from the day before of the short programs. When I found what I was looking for, I watched in interest.

I couldn't keep the low whistle from tumbling from my lips at the step sequence once it finished. I hurriedly thumbed over to the Free Skate he did and watched it.

The man could skate, of that I had absolutely no doubt. His spins were also clean and beautiful. Had I ever been able to scratch spin that fast even when I was a younger man? Impressive wasn't a strong enough word, especially when he seemed hardly winded after his program. In both programs, his scores suffered on technical; shaky or two-footed landings from his quads, or outright falls. Triple flips were also affected, although strangely enough his triple Axels were textbook perfection.

But if there was a program just for style points and interpretation? I was sure that this Yuuri Katsuki would wipe the floor with everyone, myself included. _What a shame._ I closed the video and swiped up to close the app, unpairing my earbuds and locking my phone.

Yuri had been staring at me the whole time with a mix of contempt and something else. I fixed him with a close-lipped smile, eyes turning into upward crescents, then looked away from him to ignore the continued stare for the rest of the ride. 

* * *

Chris and I arrived at the closing banquet a fashionable twenty minutes late, laughing at an inside joke just to annoy Yuri who was forced to walk in front of us. I couldn't see his face, but judging from the panic that appeared on a few faces in front of him, I was sure that he was scowling with his green cat eyes glittering dangerously.

Fellow skaters and coaches were coming to congratulate me, and I smiled in kind, distractedly looking for a certain crown of black in the sea of suits and dresses. It took me a while to zero in on him, but I finally found him nursing, or rather inhaling, a glass of champagne. Over the shoulder of someone else that was talking to me, I noticed a few other empty flutes in front of him.

I wasn't a stranger to getting drunk. I did it often, usually to either celebrate a win or to forget something bitter, like a breakup. I assumed that Yuuri's indulgences were to fill the empty pit in his soul with something so he could forget his loss. I instinctively pitied him, but then I decided against it. Pity was unwanted and disrespectful. I decided that I would keep half an eye on him.

As it turned out, I didn't need to.

He made damn sure that everyone's eyes were on him for the rest of the night, mine included. And it certainly wasn't out of some notion of wanting to make sure he didn't do something stupid. It was because I couldn't tear my eyes away from his dancing. Especially when he had started to strip down.

And dance with Chris.

On a pole.

_In his briefs._

Somehow I'd lost track of when he'd lost his pants. I looked over to the table next to me, and noticed a few empty highball glasses; my eyebrows raised. I had been watching Yuuri so carefully, that I hadn't paid attention to my own drinking. I opted to cram a couple of hor'dourves in my face to soak up some of the alcohol that I could already feel muddling the synapses in my brain.

I felt rather than saw Chris come up behind me, draping his arm across my shoulders as he was. He was also entranced by Yuuri's dance battle with my rinkmate. "He's good, _nes pas_?" he murmured in my ear.

"Very good," I agreed.

"I haven't seen Hemeros come out to play in a while," Chris chuckled in a way that I heard only when he had been single and on the prowl.

"Hemeros?"

"Greek. He's the God of Love, who greeted Aphrodite as she rose from the sea. Though," he paused, gripping my shoulder a little more tightly, but still completely focused on Yuuri. I turned to look back at the man with a keen interest, and my heart stopped for what felt like an eternity.

Yuuri was dancing with a reckless abandon, and everyone was watching slack-jawed. Even Yuri was blushing a little. There were only a few people in the crowd that weren't blushing, and camera phones were recording the dance from every conceivable angle. He was entrancing. Beautiful and disastrous, and would be ruining every single person's sheets in the morning, and driving every couple to higher desires throughout the night.

"Though," Chris continued, swallowing loudly enough for me to hear over the bass of the music, and cleared his throat.

"Maybe he's more like Eros."

There was no way that I could ever pull off **On Love: Eros** now. Not without thinking of this night. But maybe that was a blessing. I could channel this into my performance and make it my own. Use his energy and the memory of this night that would surely be seared into my mind for the rest of my life and turn it into my _pièce de résistance_ for my final season. My eyes were glued to his every movement, a mix of critical calculation and ardent adoration. I was struck, for the first time in a long time, with the need to skate.

But the surprises didn't end there.

He had pulled his shirt, pants and shoes back on, but his glasses were still pointedly missing. Those eyes, for the second time in as many hours, locked onto mine, and I felt caught. Purposeful strides were made through the crowd over to me. I could practically feel Chris smiling in the way he squeezed my shoulder and stepped away from me, but I was trapped by sharp cherry-flecked brown eyes and slightly flushed cheeks, and a smirk that left me parched for the spicy chai that was stopped in front of me.

Yuuri cantered his head slightly back towards the dance floor. "Dance with me?"

My smile broadened and I followed him without hesitation.

As we danced, making silly poses here and there, I felt lighter than I had in forever. Like I could leave the ground and fly at any moment. When his arms cam around me to dip me, I was amazed at just how strong he was, to be able to hold me up. But the thought was dismissed a moment later, recalling that he had completely supported Chris on his back, while only gripping onto a pole.

His grip on me was strong but gentle and his smile was infectious. I imagined that if I had been in a bad mood before dancing with him, it would have easily been wiped away, as much fun as I was having. I also reaffirmed that his stamina was the stuff of legends; while he was barely breathing deeply, I was completely spent.

Sometime later after I had to - regretfully - excuse myself to rest, he had come up to me and wrapped his arms around me. His tie was wrapped around his head, his pants were mysteriously missing, _again_, and his glasses were back on, giving the allure of feigned innocence.

"Be my coach, Victorrrr~" he slurred and hugged me tightly like I was the only thing keeping him from falling into Hell. Or unconsciousness.

My eyes widened impossibly and I could feel myself blushing unabashedly. This was it. What I needed so desperately to pick up the pieces of my desire and joy, my life and love. I didn't know what I had needed was a muse that was both innocent and sensual in the same breath. And here was Yuuri, like a fallen Olympic God, dropping into my life to save me when I didn't know just how close I had been to falling, myself. I was smitten.

In that moment, he could have asked me to die with him tonight and I probably would have.


End file.
